


An Expected Journey

by naurae



Category: J. R. R. Tolkien (all media types), The Hobbit (Jackson films), the lord of the rings
Genre: BAMF Bilbo Baggins, BOTFA fix it, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, What else is new, obligatory Sherlock references, thorin is oblivious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naurae/pseuds/naurae
Summary: In which Bilbo Baggins gets saddled with thirteen dwarves and a meddling wizard, for the second time in his life. He would've sworn he'd been on a boat a few moments ago....well, what's to be done. Maybe the air in Valinor isn't all it's said to be.





	1. The Air in Valinor

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I don't write that well, but I thought I'd post this to see if anyone might enjoy it. Hmu in the comments if you want more of this ridiculousness.

Light was the first thing he was aware of. Light, invading his every sense, pervading his soul with a cool, blissful warmth, like a cool breeze blowing gently over him. He was floating, suspended in mid-air, voices whispering around him. It was Quenya, or he was an Ent, he knew that much. He'd never bothered with Quenya, quite difficult, and he had always butchered the accent. Sindarin had been enough to occupy his time. 

A slight twitch in the back of his mind caught his attention. He'd been going somewhere....

He had been on a boat, he knew that. He vaguely remembered the face of the Lady Galadriel bending over him, Lord Elrond's voice, and Gandalf's, and Frodo's eyes. Full of tears he observed. The boy shouldn't have to cry over anything, he had been through enough as matters stood.

He settled back with a grunt. Odd, his spine felt springier than it had in decades. Maybe that was just the effect that Valinor had on people.

"Bilbo Baggins, how long are you going to ignore me?"

Bilbo's eyes flew open. "My goodness Gandalf, you're all grey again. I liked white on you, but I suppose the grey is very tried and tested." He stuck his pipe back in his mouth before he quite realized where he was. 

The wizard's lips parted in shock. "Master Baggins, I think you may have had quite a bit more Old Toby than you realise."

Several things hit Bilbo at the same time. One, he had his pipe in his hand. Two, he was most certainly not on a boat. Three, he was in fact, in the Shire. Four, he felt stronger than he had in quite a few years. Five, he looked down, yes, he was wearing his gold brocade waistcoat. And cerulean blue cravat. 

Oh sweet Yavanna.

He looked up at Gandalf. Please someone tell him this wasn't happening. "Pardon me, you may be right. But what does Gandalf the Grey want with me?" 

The wizard straightened up and looked pleased with himself. "Well, now that you mention it, I was looking for someone to share in an adventure I'm arranging."

"That's what I thought." Bilbo murmured faintly from around his pipe, more to himself than to Gandalf. If this was some sort of hallucinatory dream, maybe the air in Valinor wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Gandalf's eyebrows shot up. "I beg your pardon?"

Bilbo started guiltily. "You have that look about you. That adventuring look." He quickly flubbed, in an almost believable fashion. His head felt clearer than it had in years.

The wizard rocked back on his heels and stared thoughtfully at him. "Yes....Well, I was wondering if you knew anyone who might be interested." And he got the trademark 'Scheming Gandalf' look on his face.

Bilbo stared right back at him, rather incredulously. Then he gave himself a hard pinch on the forearm. "Ow!" He yelped, and hoped no one had heard. He wasn't used to having these strong fingers.

Gandalf stuck one eyebrow up behind the brim of his hat. "In case you were wondering Master Baggins, this is not a dream."

Bilbo looked at him for a moment, and then uttered the vilest curse he could think of, which, having gone on a suicide adventure with dwarves, was quite inventive for a supposedly sheltered Hobbit. 

That was a bit not good.

As in, not good at all.

Blast Iluvatar and his cryptic sense of humor. The ironic part was that he'd wanted this so much, and for so many years. He'd lie awake at night and daydream about this, what he could've done differently if he'd just had the chance to do it. To sit here having this pointlessly riddling back and forth with Gandalf and then host the most raucous dinner party since the Old Took died. To relive it all, and just have one chance of not letting the king under the mountain fall, seeing him on his rightful throne, the throne that should have been Thorin's. It would be a different world, a world where Frodo would never have to give his entire being so a world could be at peace. A world where he didn't have to spend a lifetime waiting for something that would never come. A world that could exist if he couldn't just be here on his front doorstep that fateful summer afternoon.

His outburst of a moment ago was enough to send the wizard's other eyebrow up with the first. "That was not quite the reaction I expected." He said, after an awkward moment. 

Bilbo stood up and took a very deep breath, ignoring the last few seconds. "While I can honestly say I would not mind hearing a bit more about this adventuring endeavor of yours, there is something of the greatest importance that I must speak with you about." Bilbo felt something begin to weigh heavily on his soul as he said it, and to him it sounded as though he were almost apologising. "Would you mind stepping inside for some tea?"

Gandalf shook his head slowly. "Not at all my dear fellow. What is it you wish to discuss with me? I had no idea you remembered me from your fauntling years."

Bilbo paused halfway up the steps. Oh really. "I know you are a wizard of some power. I know you care for Middle Earth and its people. I know that you would honestly care about a potential threat to life as we know it, and that is why I am taking you into my confidence. However, we had best continue this discussion inside." And with that firm declaritive, he led the way into the smial. 

If he had hesitated a moment longer, he might have seen Gandalf at his most flabbergasted since Radagast had calmly stated he wanted him to go cliff diving with him for Saruman's six hundred-thousandth-and-twenty-fourth-and-a-half-th birthday.

The wizard's left eye twitched slightly, but he followed the Hobbit in, nearly braining himself on the chandelier in the entry hall.

In a few moments, after the wizard had shifted in the undersized chair at the kitchen table enough to get comfortable, and the tea kettle was beginning to warm, Bilbo took a seat directly across from Gandalf. "I would be lying if I said I knew how to lead up to this, so please permit me to speak rather bluntly." 

He took a deep breath, his indecision and fear of a few moments ago having evaporated when he wasn't looking, feeling his mind running on a clear cut track, plans simmering in the back with ideas just beginning to bubble, a to do list laying itself out neatly, and he plunged ahead. "I know where the One Ring is."

For the first and last time in his long, long life, Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir, Tharkùn, Olorín, second highest of the order of the Istari, fainted dead away.

Bilbo's jaw dropped. Okay, so maybe he should have led up to it.

He was only out for three or so minutes, and Bilbo had a terrific time trying to get him untangled from the chair and table legs. When he awoke, between the two of them they managed to get him more or less upright, leaning against the wall. Bilbo sat down cross legged in front of him, still feeling thrilled at his newly (oldly) flexible body, and waited for the questions to start. 

The wizard began almost at once. "Forgive me for reiterating what may be obvious to you, but I must ask you to repeat, you say you know where the One Ring is?"

Bilbo nodded.

There was silence for what felt like a long time.

"Where is it?"

The Hobbit found himself chuckling rather sarcastically and hysterically at the same time. If only it were that easy. "Now that, I can't tell you but I can agree to travel with you and your dwarves for a ways, to the other side of the Misty Mountains. I can't promise anything at this point, but I may be able to meet you in Laketown after I take care of some...business matters."

Gandalf did not faint again, but he looked very close to it for a few moments. After he rallied himself, he turned to look at the Hobbit. "Bilbo Baggins, there is a lot that you aren't telling me, but judging from what you have," His eyes flickered for an instant, and Bilbo held his breath. "I will not press you. I only ask, what do you need me to do?"

Bilbo found himself grinning, and his eyes began to water suspiciously. "Thank you for trusting me. I'm not sure if I could, if someone came up and told me that-but I'm rambling now." He steepled his fingers under his chin and focused. "You're right, there is a lot I'm not, and can't, tell you just yet. I may tell you more as we go, but for now I think that perhaps it would be best if you don't know much more than just this. What I need you to do is arrange for an eagle to meet us at the far side of the Misty Mountains. I will have to leave you and the Company at that point, and if luck holds firm I will be able to meet you in Laketown."

Gandalf was slowly shaking his head. "I will assume I'm not supposed to ask how you know so much about the Company and our route." He paused. "Or that the Eagles of Manwë allow themselves to be ridden."

Bilbo smirked, not being able to help himself. "You would be correct."

"I see." The wizard stiffly stood up and Bilbo followed suit. "There is something very, very strange in all this, but I at least am aware that you can normally trust a Baggins. And, if I am not much mistaken, the will of the Valar is acting quite strongly here. I will do as you have suggested on one condition." The wizard's face grew very, very, stern. "That you will give me answers very, very soon, Bilbo Baggins." 

The Hobbit only hesitated for a moment before giving a quick nod. "Of course. I promise I will tell you as soon as I can." He clapped a hand to his mouth. "Oh, I almost forgot." He lowered his tone conspiratorially. "Do not tell Saruman."

The wizard gave him a very confused look and said nothing for a few long moments. He nodded once. Bilbo gave a watery grin.

Gandalf gave a swift, sharp, slightly fake smile in return, and bundled himself down the hall, out the door, lingered on the step for a moment, and then was down the lane like a shot.

Bilbo gazed out the window after him, and suddenly his nerves, which had felt as stern as steel during the better part of the interview, now collapsed, frayed and withering. 

Yavanna. What had he just done?

He tried to stand up straighter and found his shoulders were shaking. Collapsing against the wall panel of the hall, he slid to the floor, fingers tracing it as he went. 

Back. In Bag End.

Back. On the day which his adventures had started.

Back. As a fifty year old.

Back. About to repeat the whole madcap thing over again.

Take the ring from Gollum, fly an eagle to Mount Doom, destroy the ring, and fly back in time to confront a dragon.

And this was a good plan just how exactly?

After vibrating from sheer nerves for around fifteen minutes, Bilbo gave up trying to reason an answer to that question, and did what any normal Hobbit would've done in that situation. Cooked until he couldn't cook anymore.

He did have thirteen dwarves and wizard calling for dinner after all. 

The thought spurred him on so much, he was halfway through all the dinner preparations before he was even registering the thought. He finished cooking, and by an effort of super-hobbit strength, got the dining table out into the hall where the dwarves had tugged it last time around, and laid everything out. It looked to be enough to feed a troupe of Oliphaunts and their riders.

Leaving the table with its enticing scents behind, Bilbo packed his rucksack, with two sets of heavy duty clothing, a cloak, an oilskin, his bed roll, a few candles, a tinderbox with all of its accoutrements, bandages, a few noteworthy herbs and basic first-aid, a pocket knife in case of emergencies considering he hadn't got Sting back yet, rope, his pipe and a stash of pipe weed, a few dried berries and nuts for emergencies, well, more than a few, no point in not being prepared, and some other useful knick-knacks. The lack of pocket handkerchiefs was auspicious.

He set it by the door of his bedroom, and stopped. In the spirit of being prepared for emergencies he supposed an updated will couldn't do a bit of harm.

Bustling over to his study, he'd soon written one out, entailing everything to Drogo Baggins and his spouse, should he get one, and any and all heirs of his, provided he had nothing to do with boats and rivers, in any and all combinations. It was expressly stated that nothing was to be given to the Sackville-Bagginses. With a sigh, he rolled it up, and not bothering with a coat, walked down to the Gamgee's. 

After knocking on the door, Bell answered it with her smiling face. "Why, Mr. Bilbo, what I can I do for you?"

It took a moment for Bilbo to become aware of her question, considering the last time he'd seen Bell Gamgee nee Goodbody, it had been at her funeral. He felt a bit pale, seeing her large as life. 

Ironic.

The cherry Hobbitwife continued to look at him questioningly. He cleared his throat hastily. "Oh yes, well, I was wondering if Hamfast was home."

For answer she turned back into the smial and addressed someone out of sight. "Hamfast, Mr. Bilbo wants you." She receded into her cheerful dwelling with one last smile at him.

Hamfast Gamgee stepped out in place of her, and nodded politely to Bilbo. "Good afternoon Mr. Baggins. If this is 'bout them carnations, then I promise you, I didn't forget to prune 'em, but I thought it best if they could grow in o'er the bare patch where the dead rose bush used to be."

Bilbo blinked a few times. "No, no, that's quite alright, I rather agree with you. Actually, I was wondering if you could witness my will."

Hamfast's jaw dropped. "Your will? Land sakes, Mr. Bilbo, is somethin' wrong?"

Bilbo hastened to reassure him. "No, Hamfast, everything is quite alright, it just needs to be updated."

The sturdy Hobbit Gardner breathed a sigh of relief. "That gave me quite a turn there! Well that's alright then, just step inside and I can sign it." And he waved Bilbo in.

Bilbo followed him into the Gamgee's admittedly small, but very cheerful smial. The two, Bell and Hamfast, were newly weds, Bell only just thirty-three, and Hamfast was the new Gardner at Bag End, and quite happy with his somewhat illustrious position. 

It might have been a new home, but it was already a very homey home, and Bilbo appreciated it. It gave you a warm feeling somewhere deep in your chest, to be in a place like that.

"Bell darling, where's the red ink?"

"It should be on the top of your desk, love. Right where you left it."

Hamfast retrieved the ink, and scrawled his name somewhat untidily on the document the Bilbo proffered. "That should do it. You want me to go round with you to get the other eight?" 

Bilbo smiled politely, thankful for the company. "Yes, I would appreciate that."

The walk round the water and down to the market and along Bag Shot row collecting signatures, caused no more gossip than could be expected, and endured. It was perfectly normal for someone with as much property as the head of the Baggins family to want to make sure their will was current. 

When they had come full circle and where standing at Bag Ends gate, it was just beginning to hit twilight. Bilbo nodded to Hamfast. "Much obliged Ham, but there's one more thing I must ask to trouble you with."

Hamfast was immediately attentive. "Of course Mr. Bilbo. What might I do for you?" 

Bilbo held out the document. "Could you keep this at your place? I've got some business coming up and I shall be away for a while. I wouldn't want it to be lost should it be- needed." 

Hamfast looked worried, but his deep seated manners prevented him from prying. "I'll take care of it while you're gone. It'll be quite safe with me, 'til you come back." The last part was said with added emphasis.

Bilbo only smiled and turned into his own garden, and went up into the smial. His guests should be arriving at any moment.


	2. Enter The Dwarves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omigosh you guys, I was blown away by the response to the first chapter! I know literally everyone says that, but honestly I'm shocked that people like my scribblings. And, as per requested, here you go! One full chapter of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Enjoy~

He'd only wandered into the hall and stood for a moment, when he heard it. An insistent rapping on the door.

  
Bilbo froze. His insides began the get that queer feeling like all they really were was jelly in a mold and quite ready to fall apart at the slightest notice.

  
He rallied, taking a deep breath in through the nose and running lightly and soundlessly on the balls of his feet down to the door. Adrenaline made his movements effortless, like suddenly gravity didn't exist.

  
With a very unauspicious creaking of the hinges, he tugged the door open. As expected-

  
Dwalin.

  
The dwarf was as much like as Bilbo remembered him, as far as you can honestly remember someone you only knew for one year, eighty years ago. Bald head with the wicked looking inkings, knuckle dusters that Bilbo made a mental note never to come into contact with, and one and a-half ears.

  
So yes, exactly the same.

  
Bilbo snapped back into the present, just registering the last bit of, "-at your service."

  
He bowed back, and the same ruthlessly polite thinking machine he had found in himself earlier snapped back into place. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your families. Won't you come in? Cloaks on the coat rack and you may put your weapons by the door."

  
The dwarf looked, almost ...hurt, that the Hobbit hadn't been more intimidated, but honestly, Bilbo didn't have time for that. His polite smile never even wavered for an instant. "Food's this way."

  
That got through well enough, and the dwarf stepped in and distributed his belongings as per requested, and he willingly followed his host down the hall to the dining table. When he reached it he pulled up short. His eyes looked on the verge of breaking free of their sockets. "My word laddie, there's enough ta feed a small army here!"

  
Bilbo just smiled. "Well. They say an army marches on its stomach. But go on, do help yourself." Dwalin needed no more encouragement than that, and he set to with gusto.

  
The Hobbit unobtrusively withdrew to his study and harshly smacked his face back and forth with the palm of his hand. Nostalgia would not help him save Middle Earth, or anyone for that matter. He refused to think about the series of events that had led up to his thinking a line like that.

  
Well, he could take them a few at a time. There were twelve more to go, not to mention a suspicious wizard. He took another few good deep breaths to steady his nerves.

  
And there went the door again.

  
Bilbo swiftly made his way down the hall, rounded into the entryway, and pulled open the door.

  
Balin stood there smiling. "Balin, at your service."

  
He was most actively not thinking about the look on Frodo's face when they told him about finding Balin's tomb in Moria.  
Moving past it, not without a struggle, Bilbo rather smugly remembered his line. "Bilbo Baggins at yours and your families. You may place your weapons by the door."

  
The elderly statesman did so, and smiled at the twin axes already lying there. "I see my brother is here already."

  
The Hobbit plastered a smile across his face. "Yes he's in the dining room. Right down that way."

  
Balin's face was wreathed in a smile. "My thanks Master Baggins." And he trundled off down the hall.

  
Bilbo sagged against the door as he closed it, taking yet another few deep breaths. This might possibly prove to be harder than anticipated.

  
And he was already anticipating it to be very hard. It felt like some gash in the back of his heart, long ago neatly stitched up, had ripped open and was getting all over the floor.

  
There was the door again. All the breath in him whooshed out.

  
As he opened it, an image of the two brothers sprang into his mind. Cold, pale, and still, lying on the stone slabs of their funeral pyres, one on each side of-

  
"You must be Mr. Boggins!"

  
Bilbo really had no answer for that.

  
Neither of them seemed to mind.

  
"Fili."

  
"And Kili." Here it went-both at the same time like it had been rehearsed- "at your service."

  
Bilbo repressed a sigh. "Bilbo Baggins-" stressing the BAggins, "-at yours and your families. Weapons by the door, wipe your boots ON the MAT, and the food's that way." And he pointed.

  
The brothers jumped at that, their eyes lighting up as they came in. Fili deposited his knife arsenal with the other weapons and Kili thankfully ignored the glory box this time, in favor of the food. Both of them were down the hall before you could blink.

  
Bilbo just stood there, door half open, staring after them. If this had been some cracked up fairytale he would probably have reminisced over the purpose of his quest, not letting two young things like that be cut down by orcs because their king had fallen prey to a sickness that no potion could cure.

  
No. This was not a fairytale. Now he just stared after them and felt small. Small and lonely and mostly useless. Fili and Kili combined did tend to overwhelm some personalities.

  
Four down, nine to go.

  
If he recalled correctly, he had a moment left before the rest arrived, and he inconspicuously wandered down the hall to peek in at the dining room.

  
Dwalin was loudly saying something in Khuzduhl, and Fili stood to one side filling the tankards. Balin was filling a plate, and Kili was still staring gobsmacked at the mounds of food on the table.

  
Bilbo let a small smile cross his face, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. The deja vu was completely tangible, and it felt like he was intruding on a memory. Dwalin's gruff voice, coupled with Balin's mellow tones and the exuberant voices of the princes was a ticket down Memory Lane. If he closed his eyes he might slip away, back to happier time, before....

  
But no, there was the door.

  
One threshold full of dwarves later, who still managed to collapse into his smial even after he had very gently opened the door, and then Gandalf was looking apologetically at him from over the pile. Bilbo just gave him a faint smile.

  
Once the other dwarves had picked each other up and dusted themselves off, Gloin grabbed his brother and pulled him towards the Hobbit. "Gloin, at your service, and this is me brother Oin."

  
The (selectively) deaf dwarf bowed. "At your service."

  
Bilbo pressed his lips into what he hoped looked like something like a smile. "Bilbo Baggins at yours and your families." Gimli would never become friends with Legolas now, would he. If the fellowship was never formed, as he was doing his best to assure, so much good would never happen. Aragon might never become the King he was after being pitted against Sauron.  
To never have to see Frodo carry the ring was worth it.

  
Dori, Nori and Ori came up next. The silver haired brother cleared his throat pleasantly. "Dori, at your service, and these are my brothers Nori, and Ori."

  
The two younger brothers bowed. "At your service." Not quite as in sync as Fili and Kili, but passable.

  
Bilbo made sure to smile especially wide at Ori. "Bilbo Baggins at yours and your families." Valar, he was getting tired of saying that. Not that he didn't mean it, just that it was rather a mouthful.

  
Bofur pulled his brother and cousin up next. "Bofur, at your service. This is my brother Bombur and our cousin Bifur, please disregard the axe in his head. He understands you just fine."

  
Bombur bowed as low as his ample waist would permit him. "At your service." Bifur signed the equivalent statement in Iglishmek, and Bilbo nodded to show he understood. "Bilbo Baggins at yours and your families." He signed back to Bifur, 'Pleased to meet you.'

  
Bofur's jaw dropped. "How'd you learn Iglishmek? I thought only dwarves knew it."

  
Bilbo laughed a little too easily. "It's funny what you can pick up if you try."

  
The hatted miner grinned at him. "True that."

  
As a testament to their intelligence, the other dwarves had managed to pick up on the hint, and hung up their cloaks and hoods and left their arms by the ever growing pile by the door. Bilbo merely pointed in response to someone turning to look at him, and the merry cavalcade passed down the hall to the dining table.

  
Bilbo felt as though all the wind had been knocked out of him.

  
However, Gandalf was left looking at him with a pleased expression. "Well, you have handled this, perhaps better than I expected."

  
A wry look crossed the Hobbit's face. "I'm sure."

  
The wizard looked intently at him. "You are quite a curious study, Bilbo Baggins." He looked down the hall after the dwarves. "A Hobbit who can host thirteen dwarves and proceed to go on an adventure with them is generally somewhat of a rarity. I dread to think what your father would've thought."

  
Bilbo groaned and buried his face in his hands. "He's probably rolling in his grave at the moment." He peeked through his fingers to look up at Gandalf. "I'm sure my mother would've come along, if she could."

  
Gandalf chuckled loudly. "I'm sure you're quite right about that. Belladonna Took was never one to pass up on an adventure." He winked at the Hobbit. "I see she seems to have passed it on." His words were merry enough, but the look of his eyes showed that Bilbo's confession of earlier had not been forgotten. Not in the least.

  
The Hobbit shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Well, I think I'll go and clean out some of the guest rooms if you'd like to grab some dinner." The two nodded to each other, and Bilbo paced down the hall as fast as his legs would carry him.

  
Luckily enough for him, his fifty year old self had been something of a paranoid neat-nick, and all that was required was to let to rooms air out and spruce up a bit. He could hear the rousing chorus of 'Blunt the Knives', or something similar, coming from the general area of the kitchen, and he assumed the dwarves had finished most of the dinner. Very very quickly, considering that they didn't have to carry it all out first this time.

  
In the silence that ensued as the song finished, a loud knock could be heard at the door.

  
Bilbo involuntarily straightened his waistcoat.

  
When he had mustered up the nerve to make his way back down the hall, he could hear the voice before he saw him.  
He nearly had to sit down on the floor at the voice alone.

  
'Go back to your books...and your armchair...If more people valued food above gold...this world, would be a merrier place...'  
The voice broke him every time.

  
It was always there, in the back of his mind, haunting him, incessantly, but he did not bid the voice to go, no.

  
He clung to it.

  
He clung desperately to the memories that tore him apart. The voice was the worst.

  
That, and the mithril shirt, was all he had left of him. He'd given the shirt to Frodo, not so much as something to be useful physically, even though it was, greatly so, but mentally, for himself mostly. Thorin had always taken good care of anyone under his command, even those that he didn't actually like (he knew this from personal experience), and it was like sending Thorin off on Frodo's fool, fool, quest. (Never mind that it had actually worked.) A little bit of Thorin to keep his nephew safe.  
To an old, sentimental Hobbit at least.

  
Which he still was, and also, fortunately or not, a good host, and a good host did not hide in the back hall when one of his visitors arrived. With a twitch of his nose he straightened, and a mask slipped back into position. He walked forward.

  
One foot in front of the other. Simple, right?

  
You have no idea.

  
When he rounded the corner, Thorin was just passing his cloak to Kili. "....lost my way, twice. If it hadn't been for that mark on the door I never would've found it at all."

  
Gandalf made an agreeing sounding noise. "Ah! Thorin, may I introduce you to our host, Mr. Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo, this is Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of our company." And the wizard rubbed his hands together in a gleeful fashion that was entirely too jolly.

  
Thorin looked Bilbo up and down, like he was appraising a piece of meat at the butcher's shop. "So. This is the Hobbit. Tell me Master Baggins, have you done much fighting?" And he began to circle the Hobbit.

  
Bilbo stood his ground and did not twitch a muscle. He felt like he couldn't breathe. "A bit. More than enough for a lifetime."  
The dwarf gave a small...smirk is the only word for it. "Axe or sword, what is your weapon of choice?" There was some strangled coughing in the background.

  
Bilbo looked him straight in the eye, and the steel mask that held back the flood of his emotions held firm, for the moment. He couldn't feel anything, only seeing the dwarf in front of him and mechanically responding to his questions. "Rapier, and I throw knives in a pinch."

  
Gandalf looked visibly taken aback, and staggered slightly in the background.

  
Thorin completed his circle, and stood with his arms crossing his chest. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." He addressed this to his company, and was met with some laughter from those in the background.

  
Bilbo said nothing, only stared at him with a face he remembered using on Thranduil once, when the blonde drama queen was being exceedingly patronizing. He'd forgotten how downright rude Thorin could be when he wanted to be. You do tend to forget the bad parts of a person once they're dead.

  
Something inside him winced at that particular thought.

  
Much as he would've like to tell Thorin exactly what he thought of Thorin's comment, and exactly what Thorin could do with that comment, he couldn't move his mouth. He was pinned by those royal blue eyes, eyes staring at him from out of another life.

  
The amusing thing was his Thranduil face actually worked on Thorin, who hurriedly turned away after a moment or two, somewhat ruffled. Bilbo reflexively jerked his eyes away from the dwarf's back as he strode into the parlor, and sighed inside the moment after he realized it. This would be a fine journey if he couldn't look Thorin in the eye for more than a second, let alone speak to him calmly for three. The company followed their king, someone still laughing in the background, Bilbo couldn't quite tell who, but none the less it caused a spattering of dents in his steel mask.

  
Gandalf still stood there, looking down at him, once the dwarves were mostly out of earshot. "Did that go as you expected?"  
Bilbo gave a hysterical bark of laughter. "To a word." Perhaps some screws in his head had slipped loose by this point. In a rather telling way, Bilbo couldn't find it in himself to care.

  
The wizard had raised his eyebrows and was nodding in a rather odd fashion. Bilbo gulped. "I think I need some air." And he brushed past Gandalf out into the front garden.

  
The air was warm, comfortingly so, and the breeze was slight, just enough to feel a delicious coolness around you. Birds were singing, even though they sounded somewhat inebriated, though why, no one was sure. It was, in its essence, an idyllic summer dusk in the Shire.

  
Bilbo noticed this, as he stumbled down to the seat by the gate, and took a few refreshing breaths of the night air. Really a perfect summer night. It was, really. He wasn't just putting it that way for poetic emphasis, it was.

  
His mask had crumbled somewhere in his mad stumbling run down to the lawn chair. If anyone had chanced to be walking by Bag End, they would've seen such raw emotion on the hobbit's face that Valar knows what their reaction would've been.  
It had been fine, not good but who could consider his circumstances and odds to be good? Sauron probably would, but he wasn't even going to go there.

  
He could've completed his mission, if he could complete his mission, just fine probably.

  
But Thorin....

  
If you had walked past Bag End and asked Bilbo Baggins what he was feeling at the moment, he couldn't have told you for all the money in the world. Even him, who had some inkling of an idea as to what all the money in the world would look like.  
Just...Thorin...Sixty years he'd waited for something, he didn't know what, and when he knew that something wasn't coming, he fled to Rivendell. No one was going to chance by the Bag End on an adventure ever again, he'd realized that. No more dwarves were coming.

  
And so he'd run, like a coward, with that ridiculous prank at the birthday party, and vanished, never to be seen in the Shire again. He'd waited for sixty years....

  
Bilbo buried his face in his hands.

  
You know what? He was done. As in so done right now. With dwarves with delusions of grandeur and idiotic needs for heroism. With meddling wizards who came and messed everything up for the good of the world. With hobbits who were so annoyingly comfortable and content it was painful to him to see.

  
But mostly he was done with himself. With his cowardice. With his unbearable self pity. With his egoism. With his selfishness. With his petty, petty wants. With his lies. With his stupid, ignorance, and laziness and irritability.

  
Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Took, was not a hero. He didn't care what the songs in Dale were singing in another life of his, he was most certainly not a hero. Not like Gandalf, or Thorin, or Aragorn, or Frodo. He was not noble like them. He tried to avoid war only to see everything he found himself truly caring about destroyed. He had betrayed his friends and his King, yes his King, he'd thought of him like that for longer than he cared to remember. He hadn't been able to save the life of his best friend, and hero, and King, and the living legend that had decided to step into his life-

  
Silent sobs racked the Hobbit's small frame. If the Valar were involved in him being here again, this wasn't a gift, no, it was not. To go through it all again...

  
It was a curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too OOC. Drop me a line in the comments if you think I've gotten all of the dwarves wrong or something lol.


	3. The Eyes of a Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I was so unoriginal that I used a Taylor Swift song. Someone kill me.
> 
>  
> 
> Do I look like I own The Hobbit?

"Bilbo?"

The Hobbit whirled around to see Gandalf standing there, hatless and without his staff, looking inquiringly over at him. He smiled as best he could and endeavored to look like he hadn't just been sobbing his eyes out. "Yes Gandalf? What can I do for you?"

The wizard silently walked down the steps and settled down on the lowest one, next to him. When he spoke his voice was lowered. "This is not your first time reclaiming Erebor."

Bilbo stared at his hands. There was no point to deny it when Gandalf could figure it out. "No." His voice sounded very small in his own ears. "No it isn't." He managed to hold himself together through that, and he looked up when Gandalf did not reply.

He gave the inscrutable wizard a tightlipped smile. "How did you know?" He looked back out over Hobbiton. 

Gandalf looked with him. "Once you live to a certain point, you stop listening to what people say. You only look at their eyes." He smiled slightly. "I'd heard of it happening before. Your eyes matched those of someone I knew long ago."

Bilbo surreptitiously dashed a hand over his (still watering) eyes. "I see." He looked back to the elderly wizard. "And what did you see in mine? My eyes?"

The man studied him for a moment. "Grief. Despair. Longing. Heartbreak. Betrayal. Knowledge of near-certain doom." He paused. "Determination."

The Hobbit suddenly found the intensity of the wizard's stare a bit much, and he looked back over the water. "Really."

"Yes really." The wizard appeared very slightly amused. "You have already lived a very interesting life Bilbo Baggins. And it would seem you are living it again."

Bilbo chuckled wryly. "Well you summed that up much better than I ever could." He sobered quickly. "What does that change?"

Gandalf looked out over Hobbiton, over the water, still in the summer air, over the rolling green hills and gentle pastures. "Nothing really in connection with the quest. I believe perhaps it may be best if you tell me nothing. A little hint now and then would be much appreciated though." And his eyes twinkled slightly in the dusk. "With the fate of this world?" He paused. "Everything."

Bilbo was very still for a moment. "Well that's not intimidating at all." He chuckled again, an unpleasant sound in his own ears.

"Gandalf? Master Baggins?"

The two in question turned to look at the newcomer.

It was Balin, leaning across the thresh hold. "If you wouldn't mind, we've some business to be discussed, and we'd much appreciate your presence." The words themselves were formal but his tone was not, and he winked merrily at Bilbo. 

Gandalf rose up stiffly. "Of course, Balin. Best to get this introduced to Mr. Baggins here. Make sure he knows what he's up for." And the wink that the wizard gave him after Balin had turned back into the smial was everything except subtle.

Bilbo could've cried with exasperation and hugged him at the same time.

When they'd come back into the dining room, everyone was obviously waiting for them, though chatting merrily to each other, with the exception of Thorin and Dwalin, the former seeming to see this as a good time to practice his 'Majestic Brooding' skills, as if he didn't do it enough already, and the latter staring into space and running a fingernail over a sharp edge on his knuckle-dusters, just waiting for something to punch.

The arrival of the wizard and the Hobbit brought them round, and once everyone's attention had been claimed, Balin stood up from his seat and proceeded to give Bilbo, and possibly Fili and Kili, a crash course on what they were doing and why they were doing it.

All of this was, of course, old news to Bilbo, but he nodded along gamely with everything the older dwarf said, and hemmed and hawed in the appropriate places. 

He found himself privately thinking that this was really just an elaborately planned suicide masquerading as a quest, but seeing as how he'd been a part of the council that formed the Fellowship of the Ring, he didn't think he had much right to judge. 

The dwarf finished by handing him the contract, and sitting down with what might have been a bow and might not have been, depending on whether anyone clapped or not. Someone did in the background, but he was quickly shushed by his fellows.

Bilbo looked up from undoing the contract. "I'll take a look at this in my study, if you don't mind. Just to be sure."

Balin waved him away. "Oh of course laddie, please do. We'll be here when you've finished."

The Hobbit nodded thankfully to him, and turned away from the others, none of which who had said a word at all, with the exception of Kili, who'd had a few frankly ridiculous and unnecessary questions. The map and key lay safe at Thorin's elbow, so he assumed Gandalf had taken care of that before his jaunt out to find him. 

Once in his study, he gave the thing a glance over for the record's sake, knowing full well the trickiness of dwarves and exactly how the bold print was fair and the fine print was rather cruel. He signed it anyway. Didn't really matter. He was going on this thing if he had to follow them from the tree tops. A sketchy contract was the least of his worries now. 

Well now Gandalf knew, which relieved one of his bigger worries. As he'd heard somewhere before, he didn't remember where, 'A burden shared is a burden halved.' Well, this wasn't exactly halved, but it was good deal better than nothing. The wizard had taken it remarkably well. He'd have to ask him about that.

"Master Baggins."

Bilbo quickly turned from where he had been standing beside his desk staring at nothing to look at the owner of the voice.

It was Thorin, of course it was, he would've recognized that voice on a dark night in Harad. The dwarf was standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, looking oddly out of place in a hobbit-hole. Well, perhaps it wasn't so odd after all. Dwarf kings and hobbit-holes did not tend to mesh well, in Bilbo's experience. 

The dwarf was still staring at him with a rather impatient expression, which caused Bilbo to realize he hadn't actually said anything back. "Sorry, what can I do for you?"

Thorin frowned. "That's the point. Why are you doing this? You owe us no loyalty." 

Bilbo experienced a very acute sense of Deja vu at the last bit. Bard! Right, of course. 

But as to an answer to that question. He hated to do this, as Gandalf had been so accommodating and understanding, but he just might have to give him a few more heart attacks on the journey. He met Thorin's gaze unflinchingly. "Well, good jobs are hard to come by in this business. You take what comes along. Besides, I believe I may be able to help you. I have a bit of experience with dragons."

Thorin's eyes got really big at the last part, though Bilbo could see he was struggling not to move the rest of his face. "Oh?" It was rather endearing how hard the dwarf tried to sound neutral on that.

Bilbo just smiled. "Yes. Firedrakes in particular in fact, but perhaps some of my commissioners would prefer I don't say anything of that just yet." He turned and picked up the contract. "I suppose I should give this to Master Balin?" He looked up inquiringly at the dwarf. 

Thorin appeared to be a little lost for words. "...Yes, that would be fine."

Bilbo only smiled again, a small smile, possibly a little sad, and brushed past the dwarf back into the dining room. Thorin continued to stand there and made no sign of moving. 

Lying was starting to feel a trifle too easy.

The Hobbit did indeed give the contract to the elderly dwarf, and Balin had just finished reviewing it and was folding it back up when Thorin rejoined them. 

Balin smiled sunnily at the dwarf King. "Master Baggins is with us!" There was some assorted cheering in the background, which was again hushed up quickly. 

Thorin nodded shortly. "Good. We will be departing at first light."

Bilbo stood up quickly. "Well, if you lot are ready to retire, I can show you to the guest bedrooms." He was quickly taken up on the offer, and once he showed the dwarves to them, he left them to divide themselves up how they saw fit. They did in fact go over by a few, and Ori, Nori and Bifur found themselves places in the sitting room where they could curl up.

Once their belongings were distributed to their owners, the dwarves regrouped in the parlor. Several instruments were forthcoming, and Dwalin unpacked a rather battered looking violin, and Fili and Kili had matching fiddles. 

Bilbo closeted himself in a corner by the window and settled back. True to his guessing, the dwarves did begin to hum, and some to sing, others to play.

"Far over, the misty mountains cold,  
To dungeons deep, and caverns old,  
We must away, ere break of day,  
To find our long, forgotten gold.

The pines were roaring on the height,  
The winds were moaning in the night,  
The fire was red, it flaming spread,  
The trees like torches, blazed with light."

The melody faded off into the crackling of the fire, the dwarves left staring pensively into space. Kili was the first to look up. "Do you know any songs Master Boggins?" ("BAggins", someone grunted in the back. It sounded like Bofur.)

Bilbo gave him a deer in the headlights look. "Me? Well- yes, I suppose, but honestly I don't think you'd want to hear me. I've got a voice like a dying goose."

There were groans from all around the room. Balin waved him away. "Pay that no mind Master Baggins. Some of us here have voices like a dead goose." There was a general murmur of assent and some scattered grumbling. 

Bilbo could practically feel his cheeks flushing. Everyone was looking at him like they expected him to begin belting the 'Lay of Leiathin', which was not his best choice considering that these were dwarves. And that he only knew it in Sindarin. And he was not going to translate as he went along. Last time he tried to do that with anything, he'd ended up singing about Thingol and the Nauglamìr building a tree house together, as opposed to the Nauglamìr bringing about the burning of the trees and houses of Thingol, and Elladan had choked as he was laughing so hard. 

"Um...." He looked around again, and Bofur was giving him that face again, that he knew meant protest was futile. He transferred his gaze to the fire and racked his brain for something suitable. Not 'The Man in the Moon'. Maybe- he took a deep breath.

"I remember tears streaming down your face,  
When I said I'll never let you go.  
When all those shadows almost killed your light.  
I remember you said, don't leave me here alone,  
But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight.

Just close your eyes, The sun is going down.  
You'll be alright, No one can hurt you now,  
Come morning light, You and I'll be, safe, and, sound."

Bilbo's soft and slightly quavering tenor trailed off into silence. That was when he realized everyone was staring at him like he actually had just sung a song about a Thingol and tree houses. Now one hundred percent positive that his cheeks were flaming, he hurriedly stood up and nodded to everyone, murmuring a hasty, "good night", as he went out. He hurried along to his room as fast as he could go.

 

In the morning, whether due to nerves or adrenaline, probably both, Bilbo was first up, even before the sun, and he hastily rolled off the top of his four-poster. He'd fallen asleep in his clothes again, and he quickly changed into more travel suited garb. A cream button up shirt, made for gardening and as such a bit more heavy duty. A brown waistcoat, also for gardening, though it doubled as a smoking vest. Deep brown trousers, hopefully a bit more stain proof this time. A black overcoat, made for funerals, (and wasn't that an encouraging thing to bring) not exactly heavy duty, but light weight enough to keep cool during this part of the year, and honestly, he didn't really care what happened to it, as he had his two warmer ones in his rucksack.

He brushed his hair and his toes, because let us be presentable or die, and strode out of his room.

When he reached the kitchen, all was silent other than Bofur's snoring from the parlor. He set a kettle to boil, and began silent preparations for a small breakfast. 

Heaven forbid that any other Hobbit found out about his shifting proprieties.

Bifur was the first to come into the kitchen. He nodded politely to the Hobbit and took one of the scones from the plate Bilbo had left on the table. He took one bite, chewed reflectively for a moment, swallowed, and then his eyes suddenly lit up. He quickly gobbled the rest of it up, and signed to Bilbo, 'Amazing!'

Bilbo grinned at him. "I'm glad you like them."

Bombur stumbled into the kitchen next, rubbing his eyes. "Morning Cousin. Morning Master Baggins. I hope you both had a pleasant night." Bifur rapidly told him something in Khuzdûl, and Bombur's eyes grew wide. "Well in that case I'll have to try one." And he took one of the scones.

Bilbo was standing at the sink, slightly shell shocked. He'd never heard Bombur say as many words for possibly the whole duration of the first quest.

In the time it took to think that, Bombur had already devoured the scone with practically one bite. He swallowed and turned to stared at the Hobbit. "If you wouldn't mind me asking, could I get the recipe for that? These are superb."

Bilbo attempted to recover from the shock of hearing Bombur actually talk and nodded reflexively. "Of course. They're something of a Shire speciality."

Bombur smiled politely. "They truly deserve their renown." He sat down, and proceeded to devour several more.

Bilbo just nodded in response, and hoped he didn't look too flabbergasted.  
What else had changed?


	4. On The Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of to-do lists, and uncertainty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well I'm late af with this chapter, so I'll try to have chapter 5 up within the next few days. Hopefully. Don't count on anything. But then again, I doubt anyone is waiting for this fic with bated breathe, so I'm not unduly worried.

It didn't take too long for the rest of the dwarves to rise from slumber, and stagger to the kitchen in various states of coherency. Balin seemed hardly to have slept at all, his coat just as smooth and his hair as neat as it had been the night before. Kili, on the other hand, looked as though he'd just barely survived a hurricane. A Hobbitish instinct arouse in Bilbo to give the dark haired archer's mane a good brush, but that would hardly have been proprietous considering that these were dwarves. 

Gandalf came in rubbing his eyes and muttering something under his breath that sounded like a grave malediction on the heads of anyone who thought early mornings were pleasant. He nodded to Bilbo. "Good morning. I see you've arisen early."

Frankly, Bilbo didn't really have the energy to respond in kind, so he settled for a grunt in the wizard's general direction. Small talk and proprietous behavior had their time and place and it was not at this unholy hour of the morning.

The dwarves seemed to agree with him, and talked quietly amongst themselves for the most part, as they ate and collected their gear. Thorin did not speak to him, and seemed happy to ignore him for the most part, looking content to discuss their route with Balin and Dwalin while Gandalf shamelessly eavesdropped.

For all their apparent hostility, Bilbo wasn't allowed to lift a finger during the washing up, and the dwarves completed it smoothly and efficiently, without song this time around. Bilbo would've bet his walking stick it was because of the presence of their leader. Thorin, intentionally or not, seemed to add a serious presence to any gathering, and it dulled some of the Company's reckless enthusiasm. Which, Bilbo reminisced, was probably a good thing, because if these dwarves were leading themselves, no offense intended, these dwarves were the family that Bilbo had never really had (numerous Hobbit relations notwithstanding) and he would've died for them in a pinch, but they would've probably have ended up skewered by the trolls, before they even crossed the Misty Mountains. 

One more thing to add to his list of things to avoid. 

He had begun compiling a list in his head. Things he needed to probably avoid, things that must happen, and things to completely avoid in any and all circumstances. He was still sorting out the finer points, but roughly speaking, trolls were something he was not one hundred percent certain needed to happen.

Bilbo slipped out of the kitchen when the washing up was mostly done, and hurried to his desk. Hamfast's pay was something he needed to sort out before he left, and this was swiftly accomplished by filling out a check of his wages for the next two years. There was no accounting for dwarves and dragons, especially combined. He tucked it into his pocket, and swiftly ran down to put it in the Gamgee's mailbox. He thankfully did not see the good natured gardner or his wife, because, fond of Hamfast as he was, he was not in the mood to explain why he was running off with thirteen dwarves and a wizard at the crack of dawn.

Speaking of which, he barely had time to breath for, as soon as he returned, the majestic Thorin Oakenshield, (may his beard grow ever longer), was hustling his company out the door and down the road fast as you could blink. The sun was barely peeking up above the horizon when thirteen dwarves, one hobbit and a solitary wizard were gone from Hobbiton and the surrounding countryside. The dwarves had stationed their ponies at the Green Dragon, and only once they were collected, their tackle distributed, the Great East Road claimed and a walking pace set, did Bilbo have time to think (and breathe) again. 

Frankly his mind was something of a whirl. Honestly he would probably need to write some of this down to remember, his mind a jumble of trying to sort out memories from a lifetime ago, and trying not to wince every-time he accidentally looked at the face of someone who he knew to be dead. At least, dead in another reality.  
But really, he did not want to think about how his mental to-do lists began to look like, 

1\. Don't let the dwarves be eaten by trolls, preferably without engaging them (the trolls).  
2\. Somehow get Thorin to Rivendell to read the map, without getting eaten by wargs along the way.  
3\. Get the ring from Gollum, and keeping Gandalf with the group could be useful for goblins in the mountain.  
4\. If possible, keep Thorin from charging out to face Azog singlehandedly like the ridiculously brave idiot that he is. Facing down Azog himself (sort of again, though last time was nothing to write an epic about) would be preferable but not at all necessary. 

After that, his way with the company would have to part there, but, seeing how invested he was in this undertaking, he had already planned out the rest of the dwarves journey, having no idea how his own was going to go. The ring took priority, though he was still on the fence about enlightening Gandalf.

5\. Get Beorn's help for the dwarves without getting killed by him or by Orcs.  
6\. Navigate Mirkwood, WITH Gandalf this time, and hopefully they would avoid the barrels. And wood elves.  
7\. Figure out a way to enter Laketown a bit more legally this time. Though his worries would be somewhat relieved if Gandalf was with them. 

Honestly, he hadn't really got farther than Laketown in his head, which was actually quite impressive, considering they were barely two hours into their journey, and not even out of the Shire.

Bilbo didn't really mind the ponies this time around, being rather extremely thankful for the return of his youthful resilience, though fifty was hardly youthful. Well, compared to a hundred thirty four it was. Of course, this being his second shot at life (or whatever it was) didn't that necessarily make him one hundred eighty four? Sweet Yavanna. Now there was a thought.

"Are you alright Master Baggins?"

Bilbo looked up to look at Ori, who was riding next to him on his left, Dori just behind, and managed to smile. "Yes quite all right, thank you. Just pondering some deep thoughts."

"Oh. Alright." Ori gave a shy smile, then hastily looked back down to the road.

It was a sunny day, the air was crisp and fresh, and the breeze was just warm enough so as not to be chilling. Bit cool for summer, but you wouldn't catch Bilbo complaining. He remembered the winter of 2911, very well, too well when you came down to it. This was balmy by comparison.

"So Bilbo."

Bilbo jerked his head up to look at the wizard, who'd managed to silently drop back to take Ori's place next to him. "Gandalf. What may I do for you?"

The wizard smiled merrily, too merrily. "Oh nothing much my dear fellow." Bilbo's right ear twitched. Gandalf always had either something distasteful to get done when he called him that, or had been amazed by his Hobbitish courage, and as he'd done nothing courageous in the last....hundred and thirty years, give or take a few, (not that Gandalf would know of that particular figure) he assumed it was the first one.

The grey wizard was still smiling. Bilbo was starting to get worried now. Or perhaps he was just over-used to Gandalf the White now and was worrying for nothing. 

The man cleared his throat. "I was simply wanting to ask you a few questions. We haven't chatted to each other for a while now."

Well. That could actually go either way. Bilbo just smiled at him. "Quite right." He as well aware that all the dwarves within two yards were listening intently. Actually, all the dwarves were somewhat listening, period. "Fire away."

Gandalf smiled back. "I was wondering earlier how familiar you are with our road. As our official burglar, I wondered if you had any tips." The dwarves were all mostly listening now, even Thorin, who was straining his ears from the head of their curious entourage, and trying to pretend he wasn't. Unfortunately for him, Bilbo knew the dwarf too well to be fooled for one moment.

Bilbo chewed his bottom lip reflexively. "Hmmm. Well, I would be careful when we near TrollShaw forest. It's called that for a reason, after all. Past that-" he had to cut himself off before he started blabbing about Rivendell, because wouldn't that sit well with Thorin. "Past that I'm not sure. What road are we taking after that?" 

Gandalf opened his mouth to respond but Thorin beat him to it, and unwittingly let on that he'd been eavesdropping. "We stay on The Great East road until we reach the Misty Mountains. There we pass by the mountain pass. After that, we navigate through Mirkwood and approach the Lonely Mountain from the south. Does that satisfy your curiosity Master Burglar?"

Bilbo nodded swiftly. "Yes of course." He had to actually bite his lip to keep from uttering something short and snarky about it being only fair he knew which way he was marching towards a dragon. Actually, such a comment wasn't really valid considering he already knew, and that he would also be taking a...slight detour. Slight was being very, very generous.

Gandalf had retreated into his head, as he did sometimes when he was thinking deeply, and Bilbo knew that no amount of prodding or prompting would get him out until he was ready. With a silent sigh, he settled back into the saddle, and resigned himself to going the rest of the afternoon without conversation. Dwarves were recalcitrant and suspicious by nature, and an outsider would not be trusted and included until they had proved themselves. 

The rest of the day played out as he had imagined it, though at dinner he exchanged a few words with Bombur, nodded at Bofur, who grinned merrily back, and ate by himself. Fili and Kili looked as though they wanted to approach him, but were held back by their uncle, and consequently locked in a conversation with the said uncle, Balin, and Dwalin, from which they could not escape.

If Bilbo was hurt at this blatant mistrust of him, he did not show it. Part of him was in fact, but he knew enough to expect it. His heart though, went through a series of acrobatics, which the beef stew did some to quiet, and a pipe and a half later, had calmed completely. Petty hurt at a natural state of affairs would not save Middle Earth. 

He wanted to smack his forehead, but managed not to. How, he repeated mentally, how was this his life? Second or otherwise....

Surprisingly, well, unsurprisingly, Gandalf came to sit with him, drawing out his own pipe. "Quite a nice evening, isn't it?"

Bilbo nodded involuntarily. "Indeed." It was in fact. They were still only just on the borders of the Shire, and the air was calm, as if contented with itself, much like the residents of this land. Warm summer air wafted around, enough to make you want to sleep for a moment, if you could get comfortable enough.

Avoiding it for the moment was not a problem for Bilbo, what with this dirty great tree root in his back. Whatever else it had done to him, Rivendell had spoiled him for life on the road. The mattresses there...

He allowed himself a moment of reflection. He missed Rivendell, deeply. He did hope they would stop there this time, besides, they had to get the map read. Gandalf always got his way in the end, somehow, so Bilbo wasn't too worried.

About that at least. He was very much worried about other things. Like what Thorin would say when he heard about Bilbo's upcoming side trip. If they didn't trust him now, he didn't want to think about what it would be like then. To sign the contract and then disappear halfway through the quest would be infinitely worse, so Thorin would have to know at some point. 

If Bilbo could actually muster the courage to speak to him.

\-----()-----()-----()-----()-----()-----()-----()-----()-----

A few nights later, they made camp by a familiar stone outcropping. Fili and Kili had first watch, and a campfire crackled merrily away in the center of the camp. Gloin was snoring, breathing in a small cluster of moths, and exhaling them again. Gandalf was sitting back to a tree, smoking lazily. Most of the company was either sleeping or sitting in silence. The star of Eärendil twinkled merrily to the West.

Bilbo stood up from where a rock was poking his spine, and stretched like a cat. He picked his way over to where the ponies where tethered, and pulled out a sugar cube he had filched off Bombur earlier. "Here Myrtle, it's our little secret." He patted her nose conspiratorially, and grinned slightly. He felt miserably like an imposter.

He felt rather than heard the far off shrieks. He looked up at the sound as he walked back to his bed roll. 

Kili mistook his tense posture for uncertainty. "Orcs." The flickering firelight played over his features, giving the words a sinister quality.

Bilbo looked at him. "Yes." 

The dark haired dwarf had the decency to look a little abashed. His brother covered for him, replying nonchalantly, "Throat cutters. They'll be dozens of them out there." 

Kili nodded wisely as though Fili had just uttered a piece of profound wisdom. "They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep, quick and quiet, no screams, just lots of blood."

Thorin started awake, slightly to the brother's left, just in time to catch the last bit of Kili's sentence, and the ensuing chuckling. He stood with a scowl, though when Bilbo thought about it, Thorin did most things with a scowl. "You think that's funny?" The brothers immediately stopped their merriment. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

Kili stared down at his boots. "We didn't mean anything by it." He muttered, suitably chastened. 

Thorin raised his eyebrows. "No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world." And he stomped off majestically in the other direction, to gaze broodingly over the road. Bilbo had an odd desire to laugh. 

Balin stepped up to the brothers, resting one hand on the rock outcropping. "Don't mind him laddie. Thorin has more cause than most, to hate orcs." 

Bilbo promptly sat back down and waited expectantly, luckily without Balin paying too much attention. 

He was not disappointed. Balin began weaving his tale, of a younger Thorin, a pale Orc, and the Battle of Azanulbizar. Of the great heroism and desperation that ensued that day. Of the tears at victory. Of one King slain, and one King missing, and one King who had never thought he would be a King so soon. Of a young dwarf prince, who inspired such courage and loyalty in his people, they would willingly follow him towards a dragon. A prince in title only, in every thing else a king. 

He wasn't sure quite when he did, but Bilbo, at some point, found himself standing with the rest, facing Thorin. The said dwarf turned, and walked back through the admiring dwarves to his place by the fire. 

Bilbo kept his mouth firmly shut this time. No need to draw too much attention to himself. 

The camp soon settled back down, but Gandalf stayed up far into the night, puffing at his pipe with an unsettled look upon his face. 

\-----()-----()-----()-----()-----()-----()-----()-----()-----

The next morning dawned brightly, as did most of the following mornings. A week passed, and that turned into a fortnight, which turned into three weeks, and then Bilbo realized he still hadn't mentioned his, er, side trip, to Thorin. 

Living day to day with all these people who he hadn't seen for a lifetime hadn't gotten easier, per se, but he felt numb for the most part, like he was suspended underwater, not really feeling the current. He recognized the feeling from his later years, when winter nights were cold, and there was no voice or song in Rivendell that could rouse him. 

And he also recognized the ruined farmhouse they approached as their leader called for them to make camp. And in a moment, there went Gandalf, storming past him and down the hill.

He managed, with a hop skip, a few jumps, and a couple strides, to catch up to the wizard. "Gandalf, where are you going?"

The wizard gave him a brief glance that might have been a glare. "Anywhere away from stubborn dwarves. Why, is there something the matter?"

Bilbo's ear twitched. "I wouldn't say that, just I would feel much safer if our resident wizard stayed with us for the night." He hoped the hint was clear enough.

Gandalf looked pensive for a moment before slowly nodding. "Well, if it would make you feel better."

Bilbo nodded enthusiastically. "Yes it would. Much better."  
He had the wizard's full attention now. "Anything in particular bothering you?" 

The hobbit glanced towards the trees. "Well, as I said a while ago, it is called TrollShaw forest for a reason. You never know." And with a significant look at the wizard, he turned and walked back towards the dwarves' camp.

Late afternoon turned into early evening, and early evening turned into twilight. Twilight turned into evening, and evening was just turning into night when Bofur passed him two oddly familiar looking bowls. "Do us a favor and take this to the lads." And he turned suddenly to bat Bombur away from the cauldron. "Stop it. You've had plenty."

Bilbo said nothing, but he took the bowls as per requested, and began his jaunt into the forest. He felt rather than saw Gandalf watching him, and oddly enough it made him feel safe rather than awkward. He thought he could feel someone else's eyes on his back as well, but maybe that was his imagination.

But anyway. First check on this complicated thing he was calling a second life. Sweet Yavanna.


	5. Three Brains Are Not Better Than One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Curly, Larry, and Mo are robbed of dinner by a band of homeless bearded men. Wait, no.

Fili and Kili were only a few short minutes into the forest, standing, as he'd expected, with their backs to him, and completely unmoving. They did not acknowledge him.

Bilbo glanced around. "Lost two of the ponies have you?"

Kili gave a small shriek and jumped about half a foot into the air, while Fili had spun around like a shot, unsheathing one of his many hidden daggers. He was so fast Bilbo didn't even see where he pulled it out from. The crown prince stared at him as though he'd never seen him before, panting slightly. "Oh. Sorry Mr. Boggins." 

Bilbo only nodded slightly. "Apology accepted. Was I correct?"

The prince nodded as he swiftly returned the dagger to its sheath, and Bilbo still didn't catch quite where he put it. "Yes...but how did you know?"

Bilbo glanced around the blonde dwarf at the fourteen ponies left. "I counted."

Kili gave him an disparaging look, but his rather hostile tone may have been because he was trying to ignore the fact he'd screamed like a girl not a few moments ago. "Why would you do that?"

Bilbo snorted as though it were obvious. "I'm a burglar for Varda's sake, it's not the weirdest thing I do." He surveyed the remaining equines. "Daisy and Bungo, I believe."

Fili looked as though he was beginning to get an idea. "Would you help us see what became of them?"

Bilbo nodded. "Of course, but here, take your food before it gets cold."

The brothers took their bowls from him and he walked forward into the grassy nooks and crannies that they'd chosen as a makeshift paddock. "Well. Something big definitely uprooted these trees."

Kili nodded very seriously. "That was our thinking."

The Hobbit wandered around the said uprooted trees, scuffed his feet in the dirt and stared down. "Something with very large feet." 

Fili set his bowl down on a log and began to walk with him. Suddenly, he stopped and pulled Bilbo down by the arm. "Look! There's a light."

Bilbo turned to look with him, seeing, with no small amount of Deja Vu, the flickering orange light of a campfire in the distance.

The dwarf prince had let his arm go, and was ducking and weaving towards it, his brother close behind. Bilbo hurriedly followed, racking his brains for any ideas on defeating three trolls without actually alerting them to their presence.

The three of them reached another two uprooted trees, and hid among the roots, not a moment too soon, as a huge lumbering form passed them quite close to the left. A huge form, carrying two more ponies, Minty and Myrtle, if both Bilbo's eyesight and memory didn't fail him. He grit his teeth. "We have to do something." He hissed at the brothers. 

Fili nodded enthusiastically, as did Kili, though more for moral support of his brother than because he actually knew what was going on. The prince grabbed him by the shoulder as if to push him forward. "Yes, you should." The blonde whispered, but before he could get any further, Bilbo held up one warning finger. "No, No, and no. You are not sending me in there alone. We need to coordinate."

"Quite right my dear fellow."

Fili slapped a hand over Kili's mouth, muffling another shriek. Gandalf raised an eyebrow in that way of his. "Why don't you two go back and get your uncle?" He murmured. It wasn't really a question.

The blond prince, at least, picked up on that, and he dragged his brother along by the arm, back towards the main campsite.

Gandalf scooted his tall frame into the spot between the tree roots that the princes had vacated. "Trolls eh? It would seem your fears were justified." He waited until the brothers were quite out of earshot before he looked at the Hobbit out of the corner of his eye. "I would of course assume you've met these trolls before."

Bilbo sighed. "With less than stellar results I can assure you." He leaned backward slightly as one of the trolls laughed particularly loudly. "But the question remains; how do we deal with them?"

Gandalf pursed his lips into a frown. "Wonderful question. There are three of them, correct?"

Bilbo nodded. "Correct." He shifted from his seat among the tree roots. "They are seated around a campfire, boiling something if I remember correctly."

Gandalf had only time to hum in response before Fili and Kili were very suddenly coming up, with the rest of the dwarves in tow, other than Bombur, who Bilbo could see through the trees, guarding the remaining ponies.

Thorin strode carefully up to the two of them, slipping in the tree roots beside Bilbo. "What is it?" His voice was a low whisper. Bilbo was suddenly aware that their shoulders were brushing, and the butterflies that rose up in his middle could not be accounted for. He froze. Where had that come from?

Gandalf gestured towards the firelight. "Trolls. Three of them. They've taken some of the ponies."

Thorin nodded in understanding. "Any ideas?" He had yet to acknowledge Bilbo.

Understandably, this rather irked Bilbo. "We could see if we could get a clear shot at them from the trees around the back." He found himself voicing an idea that suddenly appeared in his mind as he spoke.

Thorin frowned. "Trolls hide is tough, but that could be worth trying." He still hadn't actually looked at Bilbo. He turned away from the hobbit entirely and crept back to where the other dwarves were hiding in the undergrowth, presumably to relay the plan. 

Bilbo inwardly huffed with annoyance. Thorin had yet to actually speak to him like an actual person, and last time he'd had to tackle an Orc five times his size to even get the dwarf leader to smile at him. He hoped it wouldn't have to get worse than that. He didn't relish the fact that he would, at some point, have to fight again.

He just hoped he wouldn't have to tonight. Or get stuffed in a sack tonight again either. That had not been pleasant. At all.

Thorin crept back towards Gandalf, who didn't dare to move because of his height. "Nori will take the one on the right, and Kili and I will take the two on the left. We'll need the rest grouped around in case any of the trolls try anything. However, we need something to distract the trolls while we get in position." This time, he briefly glanced at Bilbo before looking back at Gandalf.

Before he quite knew what he was doing, which seemed to be how he acted most of the time these days, Bilbo stuck his hand up slightly. "I'll do it."

Thorin actually really looked at him now. "You?"

Bilbo tried not to be too obviously hurt by the distrust and contempt that were mingled in the dwarf's tone. "Yes. You lose the least if anything happens to me."

Gandalf made a sort of shocked noise in the background, but Thorin studied him with something akin to interest. "If that is what you would like to do."

Bilbo looked straight back at him, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Yes. That is what I would like to do."

Thorin continued to study him, now with a measure of impatience. "Well. What are you waiting for?"

Bilbo did not answer, but turned away, and began creeping through the underbrush.

Yavanna, he was an idiot. 

Why was he trying to save these dwarves again? 

Never mind.

He reached the edge of the clearing. The trolls were all three blathering on about something, he couldn't bring himself to care what, and he stepped out of the cover of the trees. He could vaguely hear a small commotion back where the dwarves were, and hoped that it wasn't Gandalf imploding from the sheer stupidity of what he was about to do. "Good evening."

As one, the trolls ceased squabbling, and turned to look. They seemed rather amazed that anyone as small as him would openly approach them. 

Bilbo was rather amazed himself when it came down to it. 

After a moment, the cook troll, or at least the one wearing the apron, stood up. "What are ye?"

The one with the nasally voice and the cold grinned maniacally. "Somethin' tasty, I hopes."

The cook waved him away. "Shut up Tom!" 

Bilbo smiled pleasantly. "I'm a hobbit."

"A bobbit. Hmmm." The cook seemed to consider this for a moment. While he was thinking, the sniffly troll piped up again, who now looked very confused. "Isn't ye scared of us?" 

This caught the other two trolls' attention, and they all turned to stare at the hobbit expectantly. My, these trolls were dense.

Bilbo looked back at them and tilted his head to the side. The trolls were very large....

But then he found himself thinking about the stone Giants on the mountain. The albino Orc that was rather keen on detaching Thorin's head. The dastardly small circle of gold lying at the bottom of the Misty Mountains. The purely wicked shadow of fear that was the Necromancer. The bloody dragon even. Thorin's eyes, staring at the sky unseeing. Frodo's face, covered with a shadow that no mortal light could lift.

He looked straight back at the trolls, and found the urge to laugh hysterically in their faces. "No. I am certainly not scared of you." He smiled widely at them.

It was not a nice smile. 

"Huh." The cook confusedly stared at him. "Anyhow, are ye bobbits cookable?" And his confused look fell away to a sneer.

Bilbo only continued to smile, choosing to ignore the utter absurdity of the situation. "No actually, we are not. We're actually quite poisonous to trolls." 

All three trolls backed away a pace, and then seemed utterly at a loss for what to do with something they couldn't eat.

A loud voice, that was probably Thorin, decided for them. "Shazara!" All at once, two arrows and a slim throwing knife were dispatched from the tree line, right at the heads of the three trolls. Bilbo quickly glanced away before they met their respective targets, not wanting to watch the brutality of it all. He could already hear the trolls as they all shrieked, and the cook toppled over into the fire, a keen knife in his back. The third, who hadn't said anything during the whole exchange, fell backwards off the log he was sitting on, an arrow cleanly between his ears.

The second troll however, was actually impaled right behind one of his protruding ears, and shrieked with the others, but he continued to shriek after the two ceased. It was horrible noise. He began to stamp around in a waving pattern, seeming to try to escape the clearing.

Bilbo had to look up as the sounds of the troll's rampage sounded closer to him, and he hastily turned to run from the now completely witless troll. Not quickly enough, as one of the troll's flailing arms sent his small figure effortlessly flying towards a nearby tree. He was aware of the impact, and then-

\-----()-----()-----()-----()-----()-----()----()-----()-----()-----()-----()-----

"Bilbo? Can you hear me?"

Groggily, Bilbo found the waking world swimming back into place. "Yes, yes, what is it?" He chose to blink very slowly, as there was a pounding in his head that would not subside. 

Gandalf was bending over him, smiling, looking rather relieved. "Good, you're awake. You took a nasty crack to the head, and you've been out most of the night. Oin and I were getting worried." And he gestured to include the elderly dwarf healer, who, as Bilbo now noticed, was sitting on his other side. 

He was lying on the grass, near to where he remembered being thrown. The other dwarves had put the ponies in the trolls' corral, and were milling around, preparing for the trek of the day.

Oin was looking at him critically. "You feel alright laddie?"   
Bilbo returned his attention to the dwarf. "Yes...well, enough as can be expected." He made sure to speak slightly louder than he normally would.

Oin nodded. "Well, I see no reason to detain you. If your head begins to feel funny, let me know immediately." He got up and looked sternly at the hobbit. "And I mean immediately."

Bilbo nodded placidly enough to reassure the healer, and the dwarf packed up his medical kit and trundled back to his pony.

Gandalf helped him to stand. "Well. That was quite an escapade! Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" And his gaze grew thoughtful.

Bilbo decided to help him out. "There must be a cave nearby." And he made a great show of looking in all directions.

Gandalf looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Quite right my dear fellow. Quite right." And he continued to give him a 'look'.

Bilbo just smiled.

They did eventually, with some wandering, find the cave, and the two of them picked their way into it. Gandalf was muttering to himself, and seemed to read a great deal into everything he saw. The wizard had soon picked his way to the back, rummaging about.

Bilbo glanced around, wondering where he would find Sting, since the only time he'd ever been here was picking up the chest of gold on the way back, and he'd already had Sting at that point. He cast around, trying to be unobtrusive, and wrinkled his nose at the troll stench. It truly was a miserable excuse for a hole, most everything was completely covered in cobwebs, and the air was thick with decay.

"Looking for something Master Burglar?"

Bilbo gave a very undignified start, by which was meant he jumped half a foot into the air and clapped a hand over his mouth. Thorin was standing right behind him, arms crossed, and giving him what was probably supposed to be his 'majestic-very-slight-bit-of-interest-face'.   
The hobbit quickly composed himself. "No. Just...curious."

Thorin imperiously raised one brow. "Hm." And he grandly swept past him further into the cave.

Bilbo felt an urge to punch something, very hard and repeatedly. Possibly Thorin's face. He normally did right after speaking with the dwarf King. Well, this version of Thorin at any rate.

His foot brushed against something buried in the leaves, something hard. He bent down, and was amazed to see what looked to be the hilt of a sword. A very, very, familiar sword. Familiar letter-opener. Rapier. Whatever.

He lifted it up almost reverently. The weight of it in his hands felt so..right, like seeing an old friend whom he'd long missed. Well, an old friend that wasn't currently invading your home for dinner only to drag you off to face a dragon, singlehandedly. Did he mention bloody face a dragon singlehandedly? Why was he doing this again? Never mind.

He firmly buckled the belt around his waist. When he looked round again, he could see Gandalf examining what was very much a full sized sword, only pausing to hand Thorin a similar one. Well, it looked like that was taken care of.

He picked his way back up into the open sunlight, where the other dwarves were slowly congregating to discover where their resident wizard, burglar and leader had disappeared to. Bofur, who was the most friendly of the bunch by far, other than perhaps, Fili and Kili, was the first to comment on the sword, approaching him as he made his way back to where the ponies were. "I see you've gotten yerself a rapier. Looks mighty fine..." And he gazed admiringly at the sword.

Bilbo glanced down at it. "Oh you like it? I picked it up in the troll cave. Didn't think they'd be wanting it any more." And he smiled slightly.

Bofur laughed. "Got that right. You know how to swing it?"

Bilbo gave a sort of shrug. "I know what the pointy end goes into if that's what you mean." And this time he grinned slightly.

Bofur chortled at that, and waggled his eyebrows. "Good one! And I'll bet you know that-" suddenly he froze and appeared to be staring at something behind Bilbo. "Er, that is, I'll just go help Nori with the packing..." And he gave a weak nod to Bilbo, and hastened off before Bilbo could ask why.

He quickly glanced over his shoulder, only to be met with the scowling face of Thorin not two steps behind him. He stared at him for a moment, and tried not to sound too irritated. "I'm sorry, can I help you?"

Thorin did not answer, only stared back at him. He suddenly cleared his throat. "That remains to be seen." And he majestically stalked off, leaving Bilbo before he could quite gather his thoughts. 

That was...very, very odd. To say the least. 

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!"

But that was a little bit odder. 

It wasn't everyday you got to see a half mad wizard come crashing out of the bushes on a sledge drawn by rabbits. He was pretty sure he was the only one who wasn't surprised, but technically, he was cheating.

Anyhow, Radagast had officially arrived


	6. In Which Dwarves and Wargs Do Not Mix Well and Radagast Speaks of a Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this is coming out much later then I anticipated lol. I'm not quite satisfied with this chapter, but keep in mind I wrote this in middle school, so I cannot vouch for much emotional integrity or worldly awareness. and if you can catch all three references to outside works in this chapter, you get a free Hobbit drabble of your choice courtesy of moi. I can't think of anyone who would actually want that, but here we are.

Radagast and Gandalf had quickly taken themselves a good few yards or so off, and were deep in discussion. Bilbo gave them about half of his attention, keeping an eye on the ponies that were still milling about.

Well, dwarvish suspicion be darned, he was not going to face off wargs again on foot. With that decided, he quickly trotted over to his pony.

He felt more than a few dwarven eyes watching him. Fili wrinkled his nose up at him as he mounted Myrtle. "What are you doing Master Baggins?" At least he dropped the 'Boggins'.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him. "A barmy wizard just exploded out of the undergrowth, and you're asking me why I'm taking precautions? Anything could happen." And he settled himself more firmly into the saddle.

Fili seemed to accept this as good sense, and followed suit, and, sooner or later, most of the dwarves were atop their ponies, with the exception of Thorin and Dwalin, who were discussing something at the other end of the clearing.

Gandalf casually glanced over to them, and did a double take when he saw most of the company mounted. "Is something wrong?" He called over to them. His eyes instantly slid to Bilbo.

Bilbo gave a sort of shrug. "Well, I think we should get a move on." He tried to let Gandalf see how important it was. "Really should get a move on, if you ask me." He kept his tone, very, very casual.

Gandalf instantly picked up on it, wonderfully intelligent wizard that he was. "Quite right. Thorin!" He called over to the company's leader, who thankfully hadn't been paying that much attention, "I think we should start moving." He quickly began walking towards his horse, and Radagast's attention turned back to his rabbits.

Thorin just looked at him for a moment, as if he were, in fact, surprised, though his expression never changed. "Alright. We keep moving!" He then gruffly called to the company, as though it had been his idea all along.

Bilbo was keeping his opinions to himself, thank you very much.

They had hardly all been seated and going along at a walking pace for about three minutes, during which Bilbo had been glancing over his shoulder every five seconds or so, when his paranoia suddenly became justified. 

In the form of several unmanned wargs tearing out of the forest. 

Bilbo barely had time to blink before every single one of the ponies, not to mention the rabbits, were dashing along as fast as a Bree pony, and respectively a Rhosgobel rabbit, could run. He was suddenly doing all he could to keep his seat, and while that was a good deal better than doing this on foot, he had to admit being tossed and bumped around like a sack of potatoes was hardly anymore appealing. 

The tossing head of Myrtle in front of him was all he was really aware of, save for the barking and howls of the pursuing wargs. He could hear Gandalf, as if from faraway, urging them on, and Radagast's voice yelling something to the animals, or at least as far as he could make out. He'd never been very good at Quenya. He held onto the reins for dear life, and whispered an entreaty to Yavanna simply not to fall off. She'd always seemed to favour him, at least as far as he could make out.

Though why was he paying much attention to how he figured things these days? In any case, Yavanna seemed to be a bit busy at the moment, or was having a fickle sort of day, for what do you know, one moment Bilbo was on top of Myrtle, and the next moment, he was flying through the air, most assuredly not on top of Myrtle. 

He hit the ground with a thud and a wrench to his spine, that would've caused a younger him to either break into tears, or faint on the spot. He did neither of those things, and whether he felt like doing either, he chose not to decide.

Bilbo scrambled up as quickly as he could with a loudly protesting spine, and had barely a split second to unsheathe Sting before a warg was on him. The huge beast dove at his throat, or was it his chest or his head, Bilbo couldn't really tell at the time, partly because the warg's paw was so large it could have easily obliterated both at once.

At any rate, he slashed at the warg's face, managing to tear a cut in the muzzle, fortunately enough to distract the beast to give him time to breath, unfortunately enough to send it into a rage.

The creature dove for him again, and he brought his letter opener up in defence as well as he could, and by Eru this thing was large-he thrust at the thing's eyes-and dammit he was fighting again-he dragged the sword against the side of it's head as it dove-and why hadn't he kept in shape-he stumbled around the beast's next lunge-and if this was how it was going to end at least he went down fighting-

A hand encircled his wrist, and before he had time to do anything about it, suddenly there was Thorin (the majesty went unsaid at this point) slashing at the warg in a blaze of motion and technique that Bilbo didn't follow at all, and then the thing was dead and Bilbo was being propelled along by the wrist. The remaining wargs had been snapping at the heels of the company and the two wizards, who were headed out across the plains drawing them away from Bilbo and Thorin, and they had been joined by more, these wargs bearing Orc riders. 

From the cover of the trees and some convenient bushes, Thorin finally stopped moving, and Bilbo was pulled down beside him, carefully behind the cover of the vegetation.

Thorin looked him up and down. "Are you alright?" His voice was deep from running.

Bilbo gave a quick nod, unsure why he wanted this conversation to be over so much. "Yes. Fine." He took a second just to let his breath even out. "You?"

Thorin dismissed the question. "Fine." His eyes roamed over the hilly flatlands, the irony not lost upon either of them as they couldn't see any of their companions, or wargs for that matter. The sound of distant cries gave likelihood that they hadn't quite lost them yet.

Bilbo racked his brain. How were they supposed to rejoin the company now? Oh come on, he could do better than this. He'd held a conversation with Smaug for Eru's sake, he could think a way out of this!

"How fast can you run?" A voice intruded into his thoughts.

Bilbo looked up at Thorin, who of course was the owner of the voice. "How do you mean?"

Thorin opened his mouth to reply, but was suddenly cut off by some clattering from behind them, in the rest of the forest. The dwarf whirled around and drew his white elvish blade, the name of Orcrist was as of yet unknown to him, and then Radagast popped out of the shrubbery. He smiled genially at the two of them. "Oh, hello!" He looked around and scratched his head. "Must have taken a wrong turn." he muttered aloud. He was conspicuously sled and rabbit-less.

Bilbo found himself exchanging a weirded out glance with Thorin. There had always been a little...something off about Radagast. Never the less, a wizard he was and a wizard he remained, and as such, wizards will be wizards.

Radagast had been seemingly taking stock of their position. "Well, those creatures seemed to have followed the diversion quite well. Yes, yes, well. Come along."

Thorin stared at the wizard and didn't budge an inch. "Where are you leading us?"

Radagast was no Gandalf, and seemed to have even less time for the dwarf's questions. "Somewhere a good deal safer, dwarf, and a good deal more protected. Now, are you coming or not?" This last question was aimed over his shoulder as he-waddled is the only word for it-out onto the 'flat'-lands.

Bilbo took one step forward, as if to follow the brown wizard, before Thorin caught him by the arm. "We can't trust him." This was whispered very, very close to Bilbo's sensitive pointed ear. 

A small snort came from Radagast's direction. He might have a few birds both in and on his head, but he was most certainly not hard of hearing.

Bilbo had to work very hard not to shiver, because Thorin was practically breathing down the back of his neck, and Thorin was...well, Thorin. Tall, (at least to Bilbo), dark, and handsome.

Radagast continued to walk away from them, towards his 'somewhere safer' which Bilbo couldn't help but think was Rivendell. At the thought of that, his mind was made up. Time to stop acting like a indecisive tween and lay down the law to this blindly prejudiced dwarf.

Wriggling out of Thorin's grasp Bilbo turned to face him. "Oh we can't can we? And why's that?"

The dwarf didn't seem to have an answer off the top of his head, but his expression grew stern. "Have you looked at him? He's obviously mad." Bilbo couldn't help but think that was a little rich, coming from Thorin, but he was being unfair. Maybe, if he was very, very, very lucky, Thorin wouldn't succumb to gold-sickness this time-but that was a completely different kettle of fish. Back to the point.

Bilbo looked Thorin squarely in the eye, and suddenly found he couldn't quite breathe properly. Fumbling around for a point to make, he stuttered slightly. "He-he's a wizard. They are...strange folk. However if you want to stand here and wait for the wargs to come back, that's your problem." And he turned on his heel.

He didn't have to wait too long. Thorin soon came stamping after him, and eventually, caught up to him. His expression, which Bilbo managed to catch out of the corner of his eye, was set in a grim look, that maybe, if Bilbo squinted, had the tiniest bit of visible relent on it. Maybe not.

Well, it would have to do. They overtook Radagast at some point, without once speaking to each other, and by creeping and ducking around hillocks and little valleys, managed to come near to the centre of the plains without being detected.

Bilbo kept a sharp eye out for the Hidden Pass, or rather the rocky entrance to it. He could feel it, thrumming in his veins, the sense, of being near home. Rivendell. It was near.

Radagast spotted it before he did, and soon enough, they were standing at the entrance, no wargs in sight.

The wizard nodded to the two of them. "Well, don't just stand there. Jump in." And he gestured with his staff.

It was all Bilbo could do to stop from diving in head first, but again, Thorin would insist on being notoriously pig headed. "Where does it lead?" And he narrowed his eyes at Radagast.

Radagast just rolled his eyes at that, making him Bilbo's new favourite wizard. "You'll find out if you jump in."

That did it. Before Thorin could move to stop him, Bilbo stepped forward and slid down the slope of the rock formation, into the tunnel. Radagast followed suit, and left Thorin standing there fuming.

The brown wizard winked at Bilbo. "Well come along. That fellow will follow us when he likes." And the two of them began the meandering path through the narrow cleft in the rock.

"This is your second life, isn't it?" 

Bilbo nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Radagast's echoey disembodied voice. "Yes." He nervously licked his lips. "Yes…it is. Was it my eyes?"

The wizard smiled and gave a sort of nod. "So I'm not the first to know, am I? But yes, partially. Also, you knew what was at the bottom of the outcrop. That sort of gave it away." And he chuckled.

Bilbo found himself chuckling along, even though that didn't really make sense to him. They carried on slowly, in a companionable sort of way for a few moments. Bilbo looked up at the wizard. "Is it rare? Having a second life, that is." 

Radagast considered for a moment. "No. Not really. Remembering them is though. That doesn't normally happen." He gave a sort of smile, Bilbo couldn't quite decided how he felt about that expression. "I remember being a man who traveled in a box. A long time ago...." His voice trailed off into silence, and his expression grew contemplative. He snapped out of suddenly, in an undeniably Radagast way. "Supposedly, Saruman the White thinks he was a dentiss." 

At Bilbo's confused look he elaborated. "Someone who straightened other people's teeth with metal. He’ll go on and on about it, given the chance." He gave a small smirk, that Bilbo correctly guessed was reserved for Saruman. "And you? Who were you in your earlier life?"

Bilbo swallowed. "Me. Same person, I'm just, suddenly a lot younger." And he gave a feeble attempt at a smile. 

Radagast did not try to disguise his stare. "Now that, that is unusual. And you say you're living your life, your own life mind you, over again?"

Bilbo nodded. "Yes, or at least, I believe so. It would certainly seem that way. I-" and he stopped suddenly, because Thorin came up so suddenly neither of them was quite aware he was there until he was a good three feet from them.

Radagast surreptitiously touched the side of his nose to Bilbo before turning to face the dwarf. "Well glad you've changed your tune. We..." And Bilbo stopped listening at that point because the magical, peaceful, somewhat still sense of Rivendell washed completely over him as he took his next step, and he closed his eyes involuntarily from the pure bliss of it.

And of course walked straight into the rock wall in front of him as he did so.

Yup. Home sweet home it was.

**Author's Note:**

> *moonwalks out of the room*


End file.
